


Feral

by xenomorphillic



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Muzzle, Poor Max, Violence, fury road - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenomorphillic/pseuds/xenomorphillic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When and why did Max get the muzzle put on him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral

_Days...  Weeks...  Months..._

**_...Years? ?  ?  
_ **

 

Time didn't make sense anymore.  There was no light in the cave, no way of telling _when_ it was.  It was the same thing, day after day _after day_.  

 

A sharp jolt of electricity wakes him up.  It shoots through his back, and his body goes completely rigid before they open the bottom of his cage and he falls out like a rag doll.  Ankle joints pop as his entire weight is suddenly dangling from only them.  Tied up by the feet, he hangs upside-down as the needle is pushed through the vein in his neck.  Life essence drains from him at an unhealthy rate.  He counts the time.  It takes ninehundred seconds for him to become dizzy, and another twohundred before he blacks out completely.  He is all too used to the sensation of darkness creeping in through the edges of his vision.  

 

He is awoken, back in the cage now with a sharp jab to the back, and an electric current running through his body...

 

_Repeat..._

 

One day, it's different.  Something has changed, and as Max falls out of the cage once more, he realizes that the bindings on his feet have come loose.  He times it perfectly, moving his legs around so the rope unwinds itself.  The man in charge; the 'Organic Mechanic' has his back turned.  The ropes unwind, and Max drops to the floor. 

 

It was a hard landing, enough to knock the wind out from his lungs and by the time he had recovered, Organic was already on him.  The man was larger, and healthier.  He had more blood in him...  His arms wrapped around Max's neck, trying to strangle him into submission.  Max grabs at the offending limbs, clawing, trying to get them off.  Then he bites.  He catches the meat of Organics forearm with his incisors and takes a chunk out.  The man lets go.

 

Max shoves him off, and frantically scrambles upright, getting his bearings.  He runs.  The warboys are after him now, he knows this by the sounds of their primal shouts echoing through the corridors.  He turns, taking a left, then a right, no idea where he is headed to.  The walls start to look familiar...  Has he been here before?

 

 

 

_MAX!_

 

 

There is a sickening sound of metal against bone, and Max finds himself face down on the hard floor.  He didn't remember falling.  He didn't remember where the sharp pain in the back of his head came from.

 

A cold boot pressed down on the middle of his back, pinning him flat.  Flashes of white enter and leave his vision, and there's ringing in his ears.  Something warm runs down the back of his neck.  There's whispering.   _What are they saying?_  


 

"Fuck, Morsov, you didn't have to hit 'em that hard!  That's a universal!"

 

 

 

_bad dog..._

 

 

 

The cold steel pipe drops to the ground, rolling away.  The metal makes an almost musical sound on the stone.

 

"Well if you 'ad got 'em first, we wouldn't be in this position now, would we?  Fucking incompetent, all of you."

 

Max feels himself being plucked from the ground, and swung over someones shoulder.  The earth spun, like a wheel, and his vision blurred. _Can't see..._ His limbs wouldn't respond. They just hung limp in front of him, teasing him.  Teasing him, just as the voices did...

 

 

 

_can't move, can ya?_

_that's a good look on you, max.  submission._

_you left us to die, this is what you deserve!_

 

 

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. _No.  No no no, not now. **Go away!**_ He wants to run.  His fuzzy brain is telling his body to run, but it isn't working.   _Get out.  Have to get out._   _Where is that pain coming from?_  His eyes register the colour red, dripping down at a steady rate.  When he sees his own blood, it's usually running through a tube.  _**Where... am I?**_  


 

"Organic.  Got your bloodbag.  Think it's a feral..."

 

The Organic Mechanic looks up, grunting as he tightly wraps the bandage over his arm, securing the two ends in a knot with his teeth.  

 

"No shit.  I hope the lil' bugger ain't rabid."

 

Morsov puts the feral down on the table.  He isn't exactly gentle about it.  Max's world does a 360 and he finds himself with a white knuckles grip on the table, even though there's no chance of him falling.  He's shaking, sweating, stomach rolling with nausea.  

 

 

 

_help us max_

 

 

 

"Oh, fucking brilliant.  My _one_ universal and you just **had** to go and crack it's skull open.  Great...  Well at least it isn't gonna put up a fight now."

 

A hand comes in front of his face, fingers snap.  Max blinks.

 

"You still there mate?"

 

 

 

_you should be **dead**_

 

 

 

He moans quietly.  The hand comes back, roughly hitting him.

 

"Yeah, you better stay awake for this...  Morsov, grab me that tattoo thing.  Gotta add somethin'."

 

Organic flipped Max over onto his back.  He put up little protest, as he was really just trying to get his bearings on the real world at the moment.  A sharp buzz and a sting caught his attention.  It felt like a knife was slowly being dragged across his upper back.  Before he could even move, Organics hand came down and pressed his face into the table, fingers digging into a wounded skull.

 

"Don't move feral...  Almost done." 

 

 

 

_ **I S O L A T E  P S Y C H O T I C** _

_ _

_ **k e e p  m u z z l e d  .  .   .** _

 

 

 

"Perfect."

 

His face was fitted with this metal contraption that was slightly too tight.  If he moved his head too far in either direction, the metal prongs would dig into the sensitive skin of his neck.  They made it that way on purpose, so that every time you moved; every time you fucking _breathed_ , you would get a painful reminder that _they **own** you._  

 

 

 

_...deserved it_

_...left us to die_

 

 

 

The muzzle, it was also fitted with a holster for the needle, so the thing was constantly in Max's neck.  They would close it off so he wouldn't bleed out, but it was always there.  He hated it.  They made him drink his food through a gasoline tube, as they refused to take it off.  It wore the skin raw on neck and the sides of his face, and if he got too agitated, they would simply pull on the chain attached, and snap his neck back.

 

At least Organic let him recuperate for a few days afterwards.  Didn't want his brain hemorrhaging from the fracture.  It wasn't like his time off was pleasant.  He was still crammed into a metal cage with a splitting headache and the constant sound of motor engines rising up from the Citadel wards. It also didn't help that he felt like vomiting with every move of his head.  And the muzzle.   _The **fucking** muzzle..._  


 

As soon as he escaped here, this **hell**...  It would be gone, the first chance he got.  

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally on tumblr, from someone who asked that question, and I couldn't help but turn it into a smallish fic.


End file.
